


The Christmas Wish

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 3b, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, but pretty close to canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28226070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: Emma leaned forward, closed her eyes, and a wish bubbled up unbidden from the depths of her heart. "I wish I could just have a simple, domestic life. Is that even in the cards for me?" Breath left her on an exhale just as the wish floated through her mind, and the candle blew out. The "answer" to her wish had to be some kind of trick, however. After all, it wasn’t as if anything in the vision she received could ever in a million years be real. It was ridiculous. Captain Hook, the father of three driving a minivan? Impossible.ie a Captain Swan version of a Hallmark Christmas Movie
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 50
Kudos: 122





	1. The Vision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowbellewells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowbellewells/gifts).



> * This is loosely based on a Hallmark movie that stars Jessie Schram (yes, really!) called The Birthday Wish.  
> * This is set in season 3B, but it ended up being canon divergent. Namely, there's no plot thread in which Neal merges with Rumple and then dies, nor is there any cursing of Killian's lips. It's not that I have any beef with those plot lines per se, it's just I couldn't make them fit with what I wanted to do with this story. Neal's not around at all, actually, and Rumple is still dead. 
> 
> Merry merry Christmas and all the good things to my dear friend Marta who loves Hallmark Christmas movies as much as I do! And many thanks to my beta, kmomof4 for looking over this for me in the midst of the busyness of the season. Love you both!!

“Mom, come on! It’s already started!”

Emma hadn’t seen her son this excited since they left New York. Henry was standing in the open door of their room at Granny’s, shifting with nervous excitement from one foot to the other. Emma was on her hands and knees with her head halfway under the bed. Where the hell had her other boot gotten to? It couldn’t have just disappeared. Then again, this  _ was  _ Storybrooke . . . 

“Everything alright, lass?”

The sound of Hook’s voice made Emma jerk backwards and smack her head against the bed frame. She scowled at the pirate who was now standing at Henry’s side as she sat up on her knees rubbing the lump that was rising on her head. 

“Where’d you come from?” she muttered as she rose to her feet. A dust bunny tumbled from her messy hair, tickling her nose and making her sneeze.

“Sorry,” Hook apologized with a slight smirk that made her think he wasn’t all  _ that  _ sorry. 

“I can’t find my damn boot,” Emma snapped at him, almost as if it were his fault. 

“Want me to help you look, love?”

“Mo-om,” Henry whined.

“Actually,” Emma replied, pushing her hair out of her face with one hand so she could look at the pair in her doorway - one on the cusp of adolescence and the other looking far more handsome than he had a right to in those ridiculous pirate clothes. Anyone else would look like they were headed to a tacky Halloween party. “Could you take Henry down to the Christmas carnival?”

“I thought we were going together!” Henry exclaimed. 

Mom guilt slammed into her at his crestfallen expression. Between figuring out this new curse and trying to stay one step ahead of this wicked witch (Wicked Witch of the West? Seriously?), Emma knew she had neglected time with Henry. It was so different from what he had been used to in the life they had built in New York, and she hated letting him down. Not to mention that at twelve, Henry wouldn’t be wanting to hang out with her for too much longer, and she was missing it. 

“I’ll be right down. It’s gotta be around here somewhere.” She really needed to buy an extra pair of boots, but frugal habits born of so many years on the streets didn’t go away easily. 

“I’ll guard him with my life if necessary,” Hook swore to her solemnly. 

Henry rolled his eyes. “First off, I’m twelve, not two. Second, it’s a Christmas carnival. What’s going to happen? I get hit in the head with a candy cane?”

Hook just arched a brow at her, and she shook her head ruefully. Little did Henry know. Sometimes his lack of memories stabbed her with even more feelings of guilt. She waved him off. 

“I know, I know. Just get down there and teach Killian how to overdose on Christmas sugar.”

“Will do,” he told her joyfully as he shot off towards the stairs, Killian hurrying after him.

Emma collapsed onto the bed for a minute once they were gone. She’d told her mom

that having a Christmas carnival on Main Street was a bad idea with the Wicked Witch still out there. On the other hand, she had yanked Henry out of school, dragged him away from his friends and the life he had known, and brought him to this bizarro town. Now he was having to celebrate Christmas here, too. They didn’t have a tree or the Christmas decorations they had bought together last year. They hadn’t made cookies and hot chocolate for their annual viewing of  _ Home Alone.  _ Of course, technically, it was only  _ annual _ in memories that weren’t real, but that was beside the point. The point was she was now ruining her son’s Christmas too. Ever since he heard about the Christmas Carnival, he’d set aside his Nintendo DS and his cell phone for the longest span of time since they’d arrived here.

Emma got up and resumed her search for that elusive right boot. She finally found it wedged beside the TV, hidden by the window curtains. She yanked both boots on, then turned to glance at her reflection in the mirror. She frowned at her tangled hair and grabbed a brush. Once her golden hair was glistening and smooth, she grabbed her lipstick and reapplied it. It wasn’t until she was touching up her mascara that she scowled at herself in the mirror. 

_ Who exactly are you primping for, Emma? _

She refused to answer her own subconscious as she tossed the mascara angrily onto the vanity. It bounced and slid into the sink, but she just left it there and marched out the door. 

The Christmas Carnival was literally on her doorstep, filling the street in both directions from Granny’s patio. A choir of children from the elementary school stood on a stage near the post office belting out Christmas carols, led by someone who looked a lot like Mary Poppins (she probably  _ was _ Mary Poppins, Emma thought with a chuckle). Leroy and some of the other dwarves had gathered around a booth where you were supposed to toss as many bean bags as you could into the mouth of a giant wooden snowman. Merry Men cheered and laughed as they took turns trying to pop balloons in a dart game. There were plenty of other typical carnival games: ring tosses, coin drops, wheel spinners, and one of those “go fish” games where kids tossed a clothes pin at the end of a string over a blanket and one of the nuns from the convent attached a bag of Christmas candy. There were also merchants with booths selling all sorts of handmade Christmas gifts, and food booths offering everything from hot chocolate to corn dogs to cotton candy. 

She found Killian and Henry fairly quickly. They had found David at the strong man game. She chuckled to see her father spitting on his hands and rubbing them together before lifting a mallet and slamming it down. A bell went flying up, ringing loudly and impressively as it almost reached the top of the strong man game. With a smirk, her father offered the mallet to Killian. Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t look away as Killian took off his coat. He really needed to go without that long coat more often, she liked the figure he cut in those tight leather pants -

“Are you kidding me?”

Emma jumped at the sound of her mother’s voice. She turned to see Mary Margaret shaking her head as she watched the men. 

“That is just unfair,” she continued. “I know your father is wary of Hook’s feelings towards you, but to challenge him to that game . . . “

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know . . . “

Emma crossed her arms over her chest and leveled her mother with a scathing look. “Know what?”

“He, um . . . well, that is, he only . . . “

“Only has one hand?”

“Well yeah.”

Emma arched a brow and gave her mother a smug grin. “I think Killian can handle himself.”

Right on cue, Hook swung the mallet with his good arm, and the bell flew up. It didn’t make it as far as her father’s swing, but it was still damn good. Emma smiled as she watched her father slap Killian on the back. 

“Killian is it?” her mother asked pointedly. 

Emma turned to take in her mother’s curious stare. She tightened her arms further around herself. “Uh, yeah, that’s his name. It’s the name we use around Henry, so you know . . . “

“Okay,” her mother teased, a smirk of her own teasing her lips. She changed the subject, however, by lifting a plate holding a cupcake into Emma’s line of sight. “Happy Birthday!”

Emma cocked her head. “Birthday?”

Her mother sighed. “I know it was almost two months ago. Yet one more moment I missed. I wanted to make it up to you.”

“It’s okay, really.” Emma took the plate and looked at the cupcake. It was chocolate with white icing and blue sprinkles. “It’s not really Christmas-y. Where did you get it?”

“A cupcakery opened along with the new curse. Felicity’s.”

“Is that her real name?”

“It is.”

Emma snorted loudly. “Cute.”

Mary Margaret grinned. “I know.” She threaded her arm through Emma’s and steered her towards a group of picnic tables set up beneath some fairy lights. Emma let her mother pull her to the table and sat down with the cupcake between them. Mary Margaret pulled something out of her pocket with a proud smile. “Felicity even gave me a candle and some matches!”

“Really?” Emma asked with raised brows as her mother stuck the candle into the cupcake. It was sparkling blue with a star on top. 

“Mhm,” her mother said, “I told her it was for you and how I missed your birthday, and she wanted it to be special. The cupcake is special too, she said. It’s her Sugar Plum Fairy cupcake, and she was almost sold out. This was the last one.”

Emma spun the cake around, eyeing it. She had obviously been in town way too long if she was suspicious of an innocuous cupcake. The woman owned a cupcakery, for heaven’s sake! She had to sell the damn things. And what better way to drum up business than to pay extra special attention to Snow White? Emma let out a breath as she told herself to just relax and enjoy the cupcake. The bright pink and glittery decorations may not be her style, but it was chocolate, and you couldn’t go wrong with chocolate in Emma’s opinion.

Her mother lit the candle, her eyes sparkling as she sang “Happy Birthday.” Emma squirmed, never comfortable with such attention, praying no one else heard the song. 

“Make a wish!” her mother exclaimed. 

Emma bit her bottom lip as she suddenly remembered the last time she had made a wish on a cupcake. She had wished that she didn’t have to be alone on her birthday, and seconds later, Henry had knocked on her door. 

So Emma leaned forward, closed her eyes, and a wish bubbled up unbidden from the depths of her heart.  _ I wish I could just have a simple, domestic life. Is that even in the cards for me?  _ Breath left her on an exhale just as the wish floated through her mind, and the candle blew out. 

“Hey, where’d you get the cupcake?”

Emma opened her eyes to see Henry standing beside her. Behind him were her dad and Hook. Even as her son eyed her cupcake jealously, he shoved a forkful of funnel cake into his mouth. She chuckled. 

“I didn’t buy it at the carnival,” Mary Margaret explained. “I bought it at a bakery specially for your mom.”

“Why?”

Her mother, who had the world’s worst poker face, went slack jawed and stammered as she looked at her daughter. Emma calmly removed the candle, licked the icing off, then started to peel away the wrapper before she answered her son.

“Because I helped her set up her baby registry the other day, and after two hours of agonizing over strollers, high chairs, and onesies, she owed me.”

It was only half a lie. Emma  _ had  _ helped her mom register at Storybrooke’s only baby store. Named, naturally,  _ The Stork’s Nest _ . And it was also true that the experience had been torturous enough to earn her dozens of cupcakes. 

She still wished she didn’t have to lie to her son - even half lies. 

*******************************************

When Emma awoke the next morning to blurred surroundings, she wasn’t alarmed at first. It always took her a minute to fully awake and adjust her eyes to the morning light. But when she couldn’t see well enough to even find her phone on the nightstand, worry gripped her. She sat up abruptly in bed, trying to blink the sleep away. She squinted, and still all she could see was a white blur that she assumed was the sun streaming through the window and around it only blurry gray. She groped in the general vicinity of the nightstand, knocking over the lamp. She swore loudly as it crashed to the floor. 

“Mom!” Henry shouted as he burst through the door. 

Emma turned towards his voice, assuming that the moving brown blur in front of her was her son. “I’m . . . fine,” she lied, not wanting to alarm him. “Just go downstairs and ask Granny’s help to go get your gr - I mean, David.” 

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

She pressed her lips together and took a sharp breath in through her nose. “Just go, Henry, okay?”

She heard him grumble something under his breath about how he wasn’t a little kid anymore, but she heard the door to their rooms open and close anyway. While he was gone, she rubbed at her eyes, then opened them again, but still she couldn't’ see a damn thing. 

“Swan?” Hook’s alarmed voice cried out as he burst into the room. 

“Killian?” She squinted at the big black blur in her doorway that she assumed was the man in question. 

“I know you said to get David,” came Henry’s voice as a smaller brown blur joined the larger black one, “but I ran into Killian in the hall, and I know him better, so . . . “

“It’s okay, Henry, just give me and Killian a minute.”

“I want to know what’s going on!”

“I know, kid,” she said, her voice softening, “and I’ll explain in just a minute, I promise.”

Henry made no reply, at least none she could tell. She heard the door to her bedroom shut and sensed Hook drawing closer. 

“What is it, love?”

“I can’t see,” she confessed softly, reaching out a hand for him.

“What?” 

She could clearly hear the strained concern in his voice. Her hand found his, and she used him as leverage to stand up from the bed. He was closer than she had anticipated, and she awkwardly bumped against his chest.

“I mean, except for a light blur over there, and a dark blur I assume is you, I. Can’t.  _ See. _ ”

Emma thought ironically of those black frames with the clear lenses she had worn for

merely fashion reasons back when she was a teenager. They seemed incredibly stupid now.

“How long has this been going on?” Killian must have bent his head closer to hers because his breath was hot against her cheek.

“How long? I just woke up this way!”

“This must be some kind of sorcery, love. You don’t just lose your sight overnight.”

_ Do you? _ Emma wondered. She vaguely remembered some movie she had seen once where a woman woke up suddenly blind. It was probably a Lifetime movie, though, and she wouldn’t call those medically accurate by any stretch of the imagination. Nevertheless, she gripped Hooks arms tighter and shook her head.

“Maybe it’s magic, maybe not. Either way, get my phone, call my Dad, and ask him to drive me to the doctor, okay?”

“That will waste too much time. Maybe I could -”

“You can’t drive, and I don't’ think this warrants a 911 call.”

Did Storybrooke even  _ have  _ 911? She should look into that.

“As you wish,” was all Killian said, his voice solemn. The words took her back to a hot jungle, his lips on hers, and his hand tangled in her hair. She swallowed thickly as she pulled her hands away from him. He reached around her, and then she heard the familiar beeping sounds as he opened up her phone. She was glad she had given him that cell phone crash course the first time he’d watched Henry for her.

“And Killian?”

“Yes?”

“Can you explain this to Henry for me? Without freaking him out?”

“Of course.”

Then he brushed a kiss across her brow and swept from the room, leaving her flustered. He’d done it so swiftly, without hesitation, as if it were something he did everytime he told her goodbye. Maybe it had been unintentional?

Needless to say, it had been a weird morning. 

*********************************************

“Is your sight coming back?” her father asked, unable to hide the fear in his voice as he drove through the streets of Storybrooke. 

Emma squinted out the window of her dad’s truck. “That really bright blue to my right is the ocean I’m guessing?”

“That’s a no, then.”

A strained silence fell between them, but what could Emma say? She hated to worry him, but there was no denying this was really, really bad. 

“You sure we shouldn’t go straight to Regina?”

“Not yet,” Emma told him, “let’s rule out a physical cause first.”

“I don’t know if that’s any better than a spell.”

“Believe me,” she muttered, “I know.”

“Your mom Googled it already -”

“That’s never good.”

“- and people with green eyes are at higher risk for eye cancer and macular degeneration.”

“Not helping, Dad.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “It  _ is  _ good to hear you call me Dad again, though.”

Emma’s eyes blurred even further with her sudden tears. “Sorry I can only seem to say it in crisis situations.”

“Hey, all in good time. When you’re ready.”

He released her hand, and Emma resisted the urge to grab it again. She was so thankful to have him with her. How many times had she fantasized about parents who would take care of her when she was sick? Though she would have preferred something less dramatic than sudden blindness. A cold and some chicken soup, maybe.

“I know I’m not the best judge of this at the moment, but aren’t we going the wrong way?”

“I’m not taking you to Storybrooke General. An optometrist arrived with this second curse, and I think I trust whoever it is with my daughter’s eyes more than I trust a possibly drunk Dr. Frankenstein.”

Emma chuckled at the wry sound of her father’s voice. “I bet mom wishes an obstetrician came with this curse too.”

“You have no idea.”

Her father slowed the truck and made a right turn. He assisted her out of the vehicle, and she slipped her arm through his as he guided her to the door of the clinic. She felt him freeze suddenly beside her once the door swung closed behind them.

“You!” he exclaimed in a suspicious voice. “I know you! What the hell is going on? I thought you were a baker!”

“No,” another voice calmly replied, “that’s my sister Felicity. I’m Avery, the receptionist for Dr. Liv Lachesis, the optometrist. Which I should also explain -”

“Welcome,” a third voice spoke up, “how can I help you today?”

“Triplets?!” David exclaimed.

One of the women - Emma couldn’t tell which one - chuckled lightly. “Yes, triplets. It always throws people.”

“Well,” her father sighed, “I have a twin, so I can relate. We’re here for a bit of an emergency, though. My daughter woke up this morning unable to see.”

“That  _ is _ an emergency. Emma, why don’t you come with me?”

“How do you know my name?” Emma asked suspiciously as the doctor gently touched her elbow. 

“Everyone knows the Savior.”

Dr. Lachesis’ words were gentle and soothing as she guided Emma into the exam room and helped her sit. 

“Now just lean back Emma, and try to keep your eyes open. I’m going to put these drops in. It may sting a little, but it shouldn’t hurt. Okay?”

Emma nodded her head. Even though the optometrist had a soothing bedside manner, she still felt her stomach knotting with nerves. Dr. Lachesis gently held Emma’s right eye open, squirted two drops of liquid in, then repeated the procedure with her left eye. Emma blinked, hoping to see more clearly. She panicked when instead of blurry splotches of light and dark, before her eyes was nothing but inky darkness. 

“It’s going to be okay,” the doctor soothed, as if reading her thoughts. “Lean forward and look into my phoropter.”

Emma had no idea what that was, but she leaned forward anyway. The doctor guided her face forward, and Emma felt cool metal pressed against the skin around her eyes. 

“What do you see?”

“Nothing.”

Emma heard a click while the doctor adjusted the machine’s settings.

“Look again.”

Dr. Lachesis’ voice was almost hypnotic, and Emma blinked once again. The black nothing before her faded, and she could once again see fuzzy splotches of color. The fuzzy splotches then cleared, and objects took shape before her. She was outside, dressed in a sweater, boots, and all the normal winter outerwear. Snow crunched beneath her feet and the air was crisp and cold against her cheeks. She blinked again, and tilting her head up saw that she was standing in front of a beautiful blue Victorian home with a welcoming porch, and a turret with windows nestled on one side. It reminded Emma of a doll house she had admired in a store window one Christmas as a child. 

Emma then realized there were voices and laughter behind her, and she turned to see a man standing in front of the sliding door of a black minivan. He was bending over, buckling a toddler into a car seat. He straightened and turned towards her, and Emma froze in shock.

“Look, Graham, Mama’s got your shoes.”

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, wondering even more what kind of crazy contraption a phoropter was to make her see what she was seeing right now, but when she opened her eyes the scene hadn’t changed. Captain Hook was buckling a toddler into a minivan.  _ What the hell? _

His eyes sparkled with mirth and he was smiling in a way she had yet to see. He gestured with his hook towards her. 

“Swan? The shoes?”

She looked down to see that she did indeed have a tiny pair of brown boots dangling from the tips of her fingers. As bizarre as the whole scenario was, she shuffled forward and handed Hook the shoes. He narrowed his eyes and studied her for a beat before turning back to the child before him. He chatted amiably with the child, making him giggle as he slipped the shoes on his feet and tied them deftly with one hand. Emma stared at the little boy of about three, cataloguing his features. He had the same shade of eyes Emma had - a cool, pale green. He had a little dimple in his plump chin, much like her and Snow. His hair was thick and black, curling over ears that pointed in an almost elf-like way. Emma felt her jaw drop as she looked from the child to Killian and back again. 

“Mama?” Emma startled when a little girl popped up from behind the little boy. “Mama did Daddy really almost burn down Granny’s when he got you a Christmas tree?”

The little girl looked so much like Emma, it was downright eerie. Except she had bright blue eyes. Eyes that looked really familiar . . . but it couldn’t be!

Killian chuckled as he scratched behind his ear. “Well, in my defense, I was new to the entire concept of electricity.”

Wait a second - did this girl just refer to  _ them  _ \- she and Hook - as  _ Mama and Daddy _ ? Then Emma took in Killian for the first time. He was wearing dark skinny jeans and a motorcycle jacket instead of his pirate garb, yet that wasn’t what really surprised her. What surprised her was the charcoal wool beanie on his head. Captain Hook wearing a beanie? Surely this was some sort of hallucination. Emma then glanced down at herself. 

“What the hell am I wearing?”

“Wowds, Mama!” the toddler - Graham? - laughed, kicking his little feet.

“Mama, you have to wear the tree shirt to go get the tree,” the little girl added. “It’s ta-dition.”

“That’s  _ tradition _ , Hope, now buckle up so we can get going,” Killian instructed.

Suddenly, a golden blur rushed past Emma, and she let out a surprised shout as a golden retriever jumped into the van. 

“Sorry,” Killian apologized, “the kids begged to bring Nana along. I didn’t think it was a problem since the tree farm is outside.” He paused and tilted his head as he studied her. “Are you okay, love? I can drive if you want. I know your morning sickness still bothers you some.”

Then the strangest thing of all occurred when Killian Jones - Captain Hook himself, put a hand to her belly then brushed a kiss to her lips. It was the kind of quick, familiar kiss a couple shares when they’ve been together a long time. Emma looked down where his hand rested, and sure enough, her belly was swollen beneath her sweater. Her hideous red sweater covered in a garish Christmas tree with pom pom balls for ornaments. She swayed on her feet.

“Emma!” Killian cried in alarm, his arms going tighter around her. 

Everything went blurry, again, then dark. Emma blinked her eyes, and suddenly she was back in the optometrist office looking through a metal contraption that must have been the phoropter. She jerked away and leapt up, her gaze darting wildly about the room. Well, at least she could fully see again. 

“What kind of crap was that?” she yelled at Dr. Lachesis. “What kind of spell did you put on me?”

“It was my sister who cast the spell. I merely completed it. 

“Completion is  _ my  _ area of expertise, sis,” Avery spoke up from the doorway.

“Okay,” the doctor sighed with a roll of her eyes, “I showed you the middle. It’s what you wished for, after all.”

“Emma,” David cried out as he pushed his way into the room, “are you okay? What did they do?”

Emma shook her head, unsure of how to even describe what had happened. Not to mention her father’s reaction if she told him she’d just seen herself knocked up with her  _ third  _ child with Hook of all people. 

“Nothing, Dad,” she muttered, “let’s just get out of here.”

After all, it wasn’t as if anything in that vision could ever in a million years be real. It was ridiculous. Captain Hook the father of three driving a minivan? Impossible. 


	2. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is a gift for @snowbellewells, which means it must include her favorite things. Emma and Killian naming their son Graham was the first, and this chapter has another of Marta's favorite things. Enjoy, my friend!

“You’re being awfully quiet.”

Emma barely registered her father’s words as he drove them back to Granny’s. Her mind was still reeling from what she had seen.

“I mean, I’m glad your vision is back,” David continued, his words trailing off.

Emma turned in her seat to look at him. “It is, and I’m fine. Really.”

He glanced at her with concern in his eyes. “What did that doctor do? You seemed pretty upset.”

Emma rubbed at her temple wearily. “She gave me some drops, and my vision cleared. That’s all. It was just so sudden, it sort of freaked me out.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. What caused it to begin with? Did she have you make a follow up appointment?”

She started to open her mouth to protest again that everything was fine, but then she quickly changed her tactic. “Yeah, actually, she did. I’m going back in a few days.”

David’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a sigh of relief. Emma rested her hand in the crook of his elbow and gave him an affectionate squeeze.

“It was just stress, lack of sleep, and probably the shock my system got when my memories came back.” She forced herself to chuckle, and David managed to smile. 

“In that case, you need to rest.”

She started to protest as he turned the truck towards Granny’s instead of towards the sheriff’s station, but the words died on her lips. Partly from her father’s stern glare and partly with the thought that time off to rest also meant time with Henry. She still worried about where the witch was hiding out, who cast this new curse, and a dozen other fairy tale related problems, but in this moment, worry for her son and their relationship won out. After all, it was Christmas. Emma pulled out her phone to call him.

“Mom! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, kid, everything’s fine. I can see again.”

“Thank God,” Henry sighed. He turned away from the phone to talk to Hook, then came back on the line. “Killian is happy too.”

A vivid image of the way he smiled at her in that vision floated across her mind, but Emma shook it away.

“Tell him thanks,” she said, her voice strained, “for everything, and that we’re pulling into Granny’s as I speak.”

“Oh, um . . . about that. We went out.”

“You did? Where?”

“Come on, Mom, it’s Christmas. I gotta have some secrets.”

Emma couldn’t help the smile that curled her lips. “Shopping already? I haven’t even started yet.”

Come to think of it, she’d better get on that. Did Amazon deliver to Storybrooke? Because unless Henry wanted a gift that was vintage, online shopping would be her only option.

“Um, you could say that,” Henry answered cryptically. “Killian says to call before you head back to our room, okay?”

_ Hmmm, that was suspicious.  _ “Okay, whatever you say.” She hung up and looked back at her father with a grin. “Well, looks like I’m on my own for a bit. Have you had breakfast yet?”

David smiled back. “No, I was too worried about my daughter.”

“Well, your daughter’s fine, so how about some of Granny’s pancakes?”

“You’re on.”

***********************************************

Emma had lingered over pancakes with David for an hour before Henry called her back. Now she was heading upstairs to their rooms, her curiosity mounting with each step. She could hear Henry’s voice and Hook’s as she reached for the doorknob, but she didn’t announce her presence. They didn’t notice her when she first entered the room, and she froze near the door at the sight before her eyes. Killian saw her first.

“Surprise!” he exclaimed as a beaming smile filled his face. He was wedged between the window and a slender douglas fir. Needles littered the carpet and boxes were stacked haphazardly all around her son and the pirate, boxes of brand new ornaments - balls of red, green, and gold. A strand of colored lights encircled the tree, and Killian’s hook was adjusting a golden star that sat upon the highest bough.

“Mom!” Henry exclaimed. “Isn’t it awesome? I was telling Killian about what I missed about Christmas in New York, so we decided to surprise you. I mean, we can’t have Christmas without a tree.”

Emma was positively speechless, and she knew her mouth was hanging open. Henry’s eyes narrowed with concern.

“I mean, you  _ are _ surprised, right Mom?”

Emma shook her head and smiled at her son. “Of course I’m surprised. Thrilled.”

“Well,” Killian said brightly, “you’re just in time for the big moment.”

Henry came to stand beside her, slipping his arm around her waist. Killian bent and picked up the end of the cord of lights and plugged it into the nearest outlet. For a moment, the big colored bulbs flickered to light, but then there was a loud pop, sparks flashed from the outlet, and the bottom branches of the tree were suddenly orange with flames. All three of them shouted, and Emma dashed for the mini fridge to grab a bottle of water while Killian yanked the cord out of the wall. He swore loudly as a shock went through his hand. Emma threw the water at the tree. Luckily, only one branch had sparked and the water was enough to put out the flames. Unfortunately, it was enough to trigger the room’s smoke alarm. 

Emma tossed aside the water bottle and leapt onto the sofa nearest the alarm. She grabbed her scarf from where she’d discarded it when she came in, and waved it at the alarm. Killian opened the window while Henry tried to wave the smoke outside. 

And that was how Granny found them.

“What the hell are you doing to my inn?”

They all answered her simultaneously, shouting over the alarm that was still blaring.

“It’s nothing.”

“The fire’s been doused.”

“It was these old lights!”

Granny crossed her arms to glare at them just as the smoke alarm finally ceased its screeching. Emma dropped the scarf, but she was still on top of the sofa. With her boots on. Killian and Henry still stood sheepishly in front of the window, and a frigid breeze blew through the room.

“I told Killian these lights didn’t look good,” Henry finally spoke up, “but it’s all the drug store had. I mean look at these things, they look like they’ve been sitting on the shelf since 1983.”

_ They probably had. _

“Did I say you could have a tree in here?” Granny demanded.

Hook scratched behind his ear while tossing his most charming grin Granny’s way. “I didn’t think you would deny the boy a proper Christmas.”

Granny deflated at that, then rolled her eyes. “Fine. But no lights, okay. It’s a fire hazard.”

They all mumbled their agreement to the conditions as Granny left, shutting the door firmly behind her. Then they all glanced at one another tentatively. Emma looked at poor Henry’s and Hook’s pitiful expressions, then at the charred bottom corner of the tree, and she suddenly burst into hysterical laughter. It took them a minute, but Henry and Killian joined her merriment. Henry collapsed next to her on the couch, laughing, as Killian shut the window. 

“Well,” he told them, a chuckle coloring his voice as he took in the tree, “It’s not too bad, considering we burned half of it.”

Emma wiped away tears of laughter. “You didn’t burn half of it, only about . . . a fifth of it?”

“Not even,” Henry disagreed, “maybe a tenth of it.”

They all dissolved into laughter again, but when Killian joined them on the sofa, Emma sobered. She suddenly remembered the words of the little girl in her vision. 

_ Mama did Daddy really almost burn down Granny’s when he got you a Christmas tree? _

Oh, shit. 

“You okay, Swan?” Killian asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

_ It’s okay, Emma, calm down. So he got you a Christmas tree. That caught on fire. At Granny’s. It means nothing. I mean you’d never in a million years buy an ugly Christmas sweater, much less wear one . . . .  _

***********************************************

Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that the other shoe was about to drop. Things had been way too calm the past week, and Emma highly doubted that the Wicked Witch of the West was simply feeling the holiday spirit. 

“We’re going to find her, love.”

Emma’s head snapped up at Killian’s words, and he arched a brow at her over the rim of his coffee mug. After taking a sip, he set his coffee down and studied her with an open expression.

“And when we do,” he continued, “you will defeat her.”

Emma snorted. “Why? Because I’m the Savior?”

“No. Because you’re tough and brilliant, and as I said in Neverland, I have yet to see you fail.”

Emma couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks at his praise, and she ran the tines of her fork through the syrup on her breakfast plate. Regina and Robin were taking Roland ice skating, and had asked if Henry wanted to come. Emma was relieved when he had jumped at the invitation. She had never seen such a vulnerable expression on the Evil Queen’s face. 

She and Killian were lingering over breakfast in Henry’s absence, nursing their second cups of coffee, and while Emma was slightly surprised at how comfortable it was to be here with him like this, tension still wouldn’t leave the set of her shoulders. It was that damn other shoe - hovering over their heads like a storm cloud. 

“I just feel like we should be  _ doing  _ something,” she grumbled, dropping her fork with a clatter. 

“We’ve done all we can,” Killian tried to encourage her. “We’ve searched every inch of the forest and found nothing.”

“Then maybe we should interview everyone in town who’s new . . . “ She trailed off as she thought about the mysterious triplets who had already messed with her mind. 

“Just enjoy the season, Emma.”

“You’re starting to sound like my parents.”

“Well, you hero types are rubbing off on me I suppose,” he said with a self-deprecating shrug. 

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re a hero now, too.”

He lowered his gaze into his cup of coffee. “I’m not so sure about that, love.”

“You came to find me in New York, didn’t you?”

Before he could respond to that fact, Granny appeared in front of their booth holding two Christmas packages in her hands. Emma and Killian exchanged nervous glances, unsure if the woman was still pissed at them over the Christmas tree fiasco. 

“I just wanted to say no hard feelings,” Granny told them in her no-nonsense way. “I know you were just trying to give Henry a decent Christmas, and it’s Hooks first in this realm, so . . . Anyway, I got you both something.”

She thrust a rectangular package into Emma’s arms and a square one into Killian’s. Both were wrapped in bright paper and decorated with ribbons and bows. The smile on Killian’s face was filled with childlike wonder as he eagerly made quick work of the wrapping with his hook.

“Did you make this for me, Mrs. Lucas?” Killian exclaimed when he saw the contents of the box. 

“Of course I made it. I noticed you didn’t have one, and Maine winters can get mighty cold.”

Emma almost spit her next sip of coffee across the table when Killian pulled a gray wool beanie out of the box. Her jaw almost hit the formica when he actually plopped the beanie onto his head and pulled it down over the tips of his ears. His dark hair curled around the edges of it, and Emma was surprised to find herself thinking how cute he was. Captain Hook was cute. He really, really was, especially with that goofy smile on his face that cut wide dimples into his cheeks. Emma hugged her own gift to her chest.

“Thank you,” Killian humbly told Granny.

The women glanced at Emma, who was almost crushing her gift and didn’t seem to plan on relinquishing it anytime soon. She just couldn’t stop staring at the man across from her. 

“Well,” Granny said briskly, “I’ve got things to see to in the kitchen.”

“What do you think?” Killian asked her. “How do I look?”

“It . . . um . . . it covers your ears.”

Killian tugged gently at one side of the hat and then the other. “Well, those tend to get cold the quickest.”

“I like your ears.” Why was she whispering?

She expected him to get cocky and toss some innuendo her way, but instead, he blushed and scratched behind one of those adorable ears of his. “Well, uh, you would be the first.”

“But why? They’re cute!”

“They’re pointed.”

“That’s what makes them cute.”

He was blushing and she loved it. “I got teased as a boy for them.”

“Kids can be mean. Are you part elf by any chance?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

She shrugged. “Around here, you never know.”

“True.” He cleared his throat as he removed the hat. His hair stuck up in all directions, and that was cute too. He gestured towards her gift. “Open yours, love.”

“Oh, right.” She tore off the paper and ribbons, then set the box down on the table. When she lifted the lid, she froze.

“Okay, so that’s . . . interesting,” Killian murmured as he leaned over to see.

Lying there in the box in front of Emma was an ugly Christmas sweater. Of a Christmas tree. With pom pom balls decorating it. Just like in her vision.

“Oh you opened it!” Granny exclaimed as she suddenly appeared at Emma’s side. “I heard they’re all the rage right now.”

“They are?” Killian asked hesitantly. Emma could understand his confusion.

“It’s an ugly Christmas sweater,” she explained.

Killian blanched. “Emma, that’s rude.”

Granny laughed. “No, it’s ugly on purpose, Captain.”

“So this is another tradition of this holiday? To clothe oneself in ugly garments?”

Emma couldn’t help giggling at his confused expression and the way he so eloquently expressed it. “I know it sounds weird, but Granny’s right. People buy the ugliest Christmas sweater they can find, then they go to a party where everyone votes on which one is the ugliest.”

“And Snow and Ruby and I have decided to throw an ugly Christmas sweater party here in the diner on Christmas Eve!” Granny announced with obvious excitement.

“Well, Swan,” Killian told her with a crooked smile, “you might just be a shoe-in for the grand prize.”

Emma’s hands shook and her smile wobbled as she ran her fingers over the green wool.  _ Mama, you have to wear the tree shirt to get the tree. Its ta-dition! _ Emma remembered her swollen belly straining against the very sweater in front of her, and suddenly the diner felt claustrophobic. 

“Excuse me,” she apologized as she leapt up, practically shoved Granny out of the way, and took off down the hall towards the inn. She ignored the cries of concern from both Killian and Granny, not slowing down until she was in her rooms on the third floor. As the door shut behind her, she was glad Henry was gone. She slid to the floor, her legs unable to hold her. First the tree, now the beanie and the ugly Christmas sweater? What the hell was going on?

*************************************************

The other shoe had dropped. Emma would have said  _ I told you so _ , but that seemed a little cruel when they had discovered that The Wicked Witch was her mother’s  _ midwife _ and had some creepy plans for her baby brother. 

She, Regina, and Killian were at the library where Belle was helping them research spells that involved babies. Not Emma’s preferred way to spend the 18th of December. Most people would be attending an office party or caroling or baking cookies, not reading up on creepy things witches like to do to innocent babies. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” Emma announced, slamming shut yet another dusty tome. “I want to go back to the inn and watch  _ A Charlie Brown Christmas  _ with Henry while drinking hot cocoa. The exact opposite of  _ this _ .”

“I agree,” Regina concurred, rubbing wearily at her forehead. “Let’s take a break and reconvene in the morning.”

“Thank God,” Killian added, pushing back from the table and standing up.

They marked their places and stacked the books on a cart for the morning. Then they all donned their winter gear and headed for the door so Belle could lock up. Regina hurried down the snowy sidewalk to her car, but Emma paused as she watched Belle searching for the right key. 

“You coming, Swan?” Killian asked, turning as he stepped out on the sidewalk. 

“Just a minute. I need to ask Belle something. Can you help Henry get the cocoa and I’ll be there in a bit?”

“As you wish,” he told her softly with a slight bow of his head. 

She smiled as he walked away, that phrase never ceasing to make her heart flutter. Then she turned back to Belle. 

“Um, could I ask you to look up something for me?” She asked the librarian hesitantly.

“Something else about the witch?”

“Uh, no, this is . . . private.”

“Okay,” Belle said, curiosity coloring her tone. 

“There are these triplets,” Emma began, “who came with the new curse, and I need to figure out who they are in the Enchanted Forest. You know, who their . . . fairy tale personas are?”

Belle smiled. “Not everyone is a famous character you know.”

“Believe me, these women are somebody . . . magical. I’ve seen their powers for myself.”

“Is everything alright?” Belle asked with concern. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. They think they’re helping me, I guess. I mean, I think. It’s complicated.”

Her face burned as she stammered, and Emma prayed that Belle wouldn’t press her further.

“Alright, well, who are they? Here in Storybrooke, I mean.”

“Felicity Clotho who owns the new cupcakery, Liv Lachesis the new optometrist, and Avery Atropos, the optometrist’s receptionist.” 

Belle’s face broke into a beaming grin. “Why Emma, it’s obvious! Their last names tell us everything: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, the three fates.”

“As in Greek mythology? You mean that stuff’s all real too?”

Belle laughed. “It sure is. I beat Killian has plenty of stories about run-ins with Poseidon.”

“Great,” Emma muttered with a roll of her eyes, “so we have to deal with Percy Jackson crap too. So what do these fates do?”

“Well, legend says that Clotho spins the thread of each of our lives, Lachesis maintains it, and Atropos cuts the thread when our lives end.”

“I guess I should be glad Avery didn’t cast the spell,” Emma muttered.

“Emma,” Belle said softly, gently touching her arm, “what’s going on? Are you okay?”

For some reason, the librarian's words caused tears to well in Emma’s eyes, and before she knew it, it was all pouring out of her: the cupcake, the candle, waking up without her sight, and what happened at the optometrist’s office. It was embarrassing word vomit, right there in front of the library on the snowy sidewalk, and by the end of it, Belle had her arm around her. 

“And it all seemed insane, you know?” Emma finished. “I mean, none of it seemed plausible, but then the tree caught on fire, and Granny gave us those  _ ridiculous  _ gifts, and I don’t know, I’m so confused!”

“Are you?”

Emma choked out a strangled laugh. “I mean, there’s always been this attraction between us, and the man can kiss -” Emma raised a hand when she saw Belle’s eyebrows raise “but attraction and a passionate kiss is one thing. That vision . . . . it’s . . . .”

“A happy ending?” Belle supplied.

“Yeah,” Emma said softly, “and I just don’t know that I believe in that. Happy endings and true love. At least not for me.”

Emma waited for the true love speech from the Disney princess turned town librarian, but instead, Belle pulled her close in a tight hug. For a moment, she didn’t speak, then she pulled back and gave Emma a gentle look. 

“I know your early years were full of loneliness and pain, Emma, but those years are in the past. Maybe that’s why Felicity Clothos, the spinner, got involved. Maybe she - and her sister Dr. Lachesis - wanted to give you the gift of hope. If anyone deserves it, Emma, it’s you.”

In some ways, it sounded like something Emma’s mother would say, but it was different coming from Belle. This was from a woman who had suffered so much heartbreak. Heartbreak caused by a man who, in Emma’s opinion, didn’t deserve the love of someone as kind and generous as Belle. Yet here Belle was, encouraging Emma to take hold of the happy ending in front of her. 

“You’re a wonderful friend, Belle.”

“So are you, Emma.”

The two women hugged again, and when they stepped apart, Emma crinkled her nose and squinted her eyes with worry. 

“Being a good friend means you’ll keep this a secret, right? Especially from my mom?”

Belle threw back her head and laughed. “My lips are sealed.” Then Belle winked at Emma. “Now hurry off to enjoy that cocoa and the man making it.”

“Belle!” Emma exclaimed, her cheeks heating. 

She did hurry, though. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get too excited by this ending, my dears. We've still got two chapters, more slow burn, and more of Emma's walls. So buckle up!


	3. Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * snowbellewells and I have the same feeling about Outlaw Queen - that it started out as a great ship until the plot blew holes in it. So in this fic, we get lovely Outlaw Queen without any ridiculous plot complications. Merry Christmas, Marta!  
> * Merry Christmas and many thanks also to my beta kmomof4!

Regina’s true love’s kiss gave Henry his memories back. Emma hated that she wasn’t one hundred percent thrilled. She should have been thrilled. After all, she didn’t have to lie to her kid anymore. But now she had to share him again, and as shallow as that sounded, she didn’t like it. 

Then because Henry believed,  _ everyone  _ got their memories back, and Emma had two more reasons to be unhappy. The first was that it turned out only her light magic could defeat the Wicked Witch because of  _ course it was _ , and the whole reason for the second curse was to get Emma back to Storybrooke because  _ of course it was _ .

But that revelation only made her weary and a little frustrated. What pissed her off was the way her parents turned on Hook. 

“We never sent you a message,” they said, turning immediately to Hook with suspicion in their eyes. 

“Well someone bloody hell did!” he protested, and Emma didn’t blame him for the hurt and anger in his voice. 

“Are you serious right now?” Emma snapped at her parents. “After all the ways he’s proved himself, you’re just going to turn on him? He came for me, didn’t he? He brought me home, didn’t he?”

“Of course he did,” Regina scoffed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh please, don’t pretend all of us haven’t noticed the yearning looks and doey eyes.”

Emma’s face burned with embarrassment, and the only reason she didn’t slap Regina was because she still had her arms around Henry. 

But it was her son, surprisingly, who shut down the argument. 

“Stop it, all of you! I got my family back, in time for Christmas even, and you’re ruining it by fighting.” That shut everyone up, but what Henry did next had a lump rising in Emma’s throat. He walked right up to Killian, smiled, and then said, “Thank you. For everything.” 

Then he threw his arms around Killian and hugged him. Regina’s eyes widened in shock, her parents’ jaws dropped, and when Killian hugged him back, a tear rolled down Emma’s cheek. 

***************************************************

“Where’s my dad?”

Henry had insisted on a family dinner that very night so they could all catch up now that his memories were back. His question was like a bomb going off, and the way Mary Margaret dropped the dirty silverware in the sink with a clatter was a huge tell. 

“Something bad happened, didn’t it?” Henry choked out. 

Emma had pushed curiosity about Neal to the back of her mind since they got to town. No one knew where he was or could remember what he’d done back in the Enchanted Forest. Was he one of the unfortunate ones transformed into a flying monkey? Had something befallen him before the curse hit? Emma didn’t have the emotional capacity to handle such questions, so she’d just buried them. 

David now drew close to Mary Margaret and put his arm around her. He cleared his throat and looked to Emma for guidance. She simply nodded.

“Henry, I’m sorry, but your dad is gone,” her father explained as gently as possible. 

Emma sucked in a breath and reached out for Henry. He turned and buried his face against the crook of her neck and began to cry. Regina came around the kitchen island and gently ran her fingers through Henry’s hair. Killian turned away, his jaw clenching with emotion, and she remembered that he’d known Neal long ago - as the boy Baelfire, Milah’s son. 

“I’m so sorry,” Regina said softly. “He wanted to get back to you so desperately, he made a poor choice.”

“What do you mean?” Emma asked.

Regina sighed. “He went back to his father’s castle, looking for a way to bring Rumple back.”

“But that would be dark magic!”

“The darkest,” Regina affirmed, “and not only was he unsuccessful, he . . . lost his life in the process.”

Henry lifted his head, his face twisted in anger. “Stupid! Why did he have to be so stupid!” he shouted, then he pushed away from Emma and ran up the loft stairs to his old room. 

Regina started to go after him, but Emma put a hand to her elbow. “Let him be.”

“You don’t get to parent him alone anymore, remember?” 

Emma’s eyes flashed fire. “This isn’t a mother of the year competition. He takes after me in the way he processes stuff like this, so I know he needs space, okay?”

“Fine,” Regina muttered. She stomped over to retrieve her purse and coat. “But don’t forget that he’s legally mine. Now that his memories are back, we  _ both  _ have a say in raising him.”

When the door slammed shut behind her, Emma’s head fell to the kitchen island with a thud as a weary groan rose in her throat. 

*****************************************************

“I’m the worst mother in the world,” Emma grumbled.

“That couldn’t be further from the truth, love,” Killian replied.

He handed over his flask of rum, and Emma gladly took it. After taking a sip, she handed it back, but he pressed it into her hand again. She smiled in thanks and dropped her head to his shoulder. The sky was painted yellow, orange, and red as the sun set over the water. Emma’s legs dangled over the edge of the dock, and Killian sat slightly sideways, his legs on either side of her. Despite Belle’s encouragement a few days ago, Emma had only gone home to enjoy the cocoa, not the man. Henry was there, after all, and a woman didn’t exactly make her first move with her kid there. Yet she’d let her walls down the tiniest bit, and they had begun to enjoy a new level of casual intimacy. 

And those yearning looks and doey eyes Regina had mentioned.

“Not wanting to share your son, especially after having him all to yourself for over a year -”

“Way more than a year. I know they were fake memories, but they  _ felt  _ real.”

“Precisely my point. What you’re feeling is  _ human _ , and despite your feelings, I know you’ll do what’s best for Henry in the end. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

“Killian?”

“Aye?”

“You’ve been a great friend to me.”

“The pleasure’s been all mine, love.”

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and the air around them became electric. Emma’s eyes darted to his lips. They were so close, her body ached with his nearness, for it still wasn’t near enough. He drew closer, his nose brushing hers, and suddenly she remembered the kids in the minivan. Was she ready for that? A white picket fence life? Was  _ he _ ? She leaned back, away from him, and he frowned. 

“I - I can’t . . .” she scrambled to her feet, and Killian hurried to stand with her. 

“Emma -”

“No, Killian, please don’t. I have a lot to process and a Wicked Witch to defeat, and it’s just . . . it’s too much.”

She thrust his flask back into his hand, and before he could protest or reach for her, she turned and rushed away. He didn’t follow her, or call after her, and she walked with quick, long strides all the way back to the inn. 

The Fates may have thought they were giving her a gift, but right now it felt like a curse.

*********************************************

Emma’s room was empty, so she settled down on the floor and opened the bottom dresser drawer. Inside was the sweater Granny gave her. She ran a hand over the gaudy pom poms, her brow furrowed. Could the tree, the beanie, and the sweater just be coincidences that she was blowing out of proportion? As unlikely as she had considered them to be, they weren’t completely out of place for the season. 

Now that she thought about it, the vision wasn’t necessarily from the future. To assume so was pretty ludicrous. It wouldn’t take much for these Fates to mess with her head, after all. As Dr. Lachesis said, everyone knew who Emma was, and the Storybrooke rumor mill was always buzzing about how often Snow and Charming’s “princess” was seen in the company of Captain Hook. Like Belle said, they were probably trying to give her a gift - a form of encouragement. They had taken a bit of rumor, a sprinkle of the holiday season, and the cliche of the white picket fence life to weave a little fantasy and put Emma’s mind at ease. Or so they probably thought.

Emma shut the drawer and rose to her feet. She grabbed a pillow off her unmade bed and plopped down onto her back. The most unbelievable parts of her vision, after all, were the kids, the dog, and the picture perfect house. No way any of those would prove to be true anytime soon. 

And as for Killian, as good a friend as he had become, she couldn’t let it become more than that. Not right now, not any time soon. Henry had just found out his father was dead. There was a Wicked Witch on the loose. Emma wasn’t even sure she wanted to stay in Storybrooke permanently. All very good reasons to avoid anything romantic. 

The room was so quiet, and cozily warm after the brisk December wind she’d been out in, that Emma felt drowsiness descend upon her. Henry was spending some time with Regina, so there was no reason she couldn’t take a nap right now. Her eyes fluttered, but before she could fall into a blessed sleep, the sounds of arguing in the hallway reached her ears. Always on high alert, Emma sat up and listened closely. It was Granny.

She tossed aside her pillow and rose from the bed. As she opened her bedroom door and crossed the living room, she recognized another voice - Henry’s! Emma sprinted to the door in concern and flung it open.

Granny stood there with her hands on her hips in front of Killian, and Henry stood next to him with an imploring look on his face. 

“Please, Granny, make an exception, just this once.”

“Henry, as soon as I make one exception, everybody’s trying to take advantage of me. The rule is no pets.”

_ Pets? _

Henry saw Emma, and his face brightened. “Mom, come look what Killian’s got!”

Granny turned towards her, giving Emma her first full view of Killian. He held a wriggling ball of golden fur to his chest, and when he saw her, he gave her a sheepish grin. 

“She was the only one in her litter to survive, and I couldn’t just leave her, Swan.”

Emma blinked and shook her head in shock as she drew closer. The bundle in Killian’s arms turned its head towards her, and Emma saw big, brown puppy dog eyes gazing up at her. 

“Isn’t she cute, Mom?” Henry asked, reaching up to scratch the puppy behind the ears. 

“What do you mean she was the only one who survived?” Emma asked.

“Roland and I found her at the park,” Henry explained. “She was all alone and shivering under a picnic table. Mom said not to touch it, but Killian was there, and he coaxed her out. Robin found the mother and the other puppies down by the water, but he wouldn’t let us see.”

Killian’s face was so sad, it made Emma’s heart clench. “The thaw we just had made the pond overflow its banks, and I’m afraid they drowned.”

Emma frowned. “That’s so sad.”

“If you’re trying to soften me up, it won’t work,” muttered Granny. 

“It’s a . . . what kind of breed is she?” Emma asked hesitantly.

“Your father’s fairly sure it's a golden retriever.”

His answer made Emma’s head spin as she remembered the golden blur of fur in her vision. 

“Don’t think I’m heartless,” Granny piped up, “but there’s all kinds of problems if you start allowing pets. There’s the smell, and accidents on the carpet, and chewed up furniture . . . “

Killian gave a tiny bow of his head to Granny. “I understand completely, m’lady, I’ll find some other place for her.”

“Aww, but you have to keep her,” Henry whined, “her name is perfect for you.”

Killian chuckled, “You’re the one who named her, lad.”

“What did you name her?” Emma asked, worried she already knew the answer.

“Nana,” Henry told her with a proud grin, “just like the dog in  _ Peter Pan _ . Get it?”

“Yeah,” Emma said weakly, “I get it.”

“I was hesitant until your boy clarified that Nana is the Darling’s dog in the cartoon, not Pan’s,” Killian chuckled.

“I don’t see why you can’t let him have a dog when you and Ruby are technically dogs,” Henry argued saucily.

“Henry!” Emma exclaimed, but Granny merely chuckled.

“I haven’t gone through the change in many full moons, I’ll have you know, and Ruby doesn’t do her business on the carpet like a pup.” Granny sighed and cocked her head as she regarded the puppy. “Perhaps my granddaughter would be willing to watch her for you until you get a more permanent place.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed at that, but Killian’s face brightened. “I do need to put down roots here, it’s true. Maybe Nana here will give me added motivation.”

Killian caught Emma’s eye and winked, and she wondered if she was asleep after all and dreaming. 

***********************************************

In addition to all her other problems, Emma had just given herself whiplash. Physical  _ and  _ emotional whiplash. 

How she had never seen it before was a mystery. Storybrooke wasn’t  _ that  _ big, after all. Then again, maybe she’d seen it and never had a reason to pay any attention to it. There it was, however, in all it’s big, blue, Victorian glory. 

Just like in her vision.

She wouldn’t have seen it on this particular day, at this particular moment, if her dad wasn’t helping her mom baby proof the loft. She’d volunteered to take his shift patrolling today, knowing the baby proofing was really just a way for him to deal with his fears concerning Zelena and the baby. Though child-proof locks on the kitchen cabinets weren't going to stop a wicked witch, Emma understood the need to be  _ doing  _ something. She and her dad were alike that way. 

So here she was, with a sore neck, staring up at a gorgeous house that still looked and felt like a dream. Of course, in her dream (vision? She wasn’t sure  _ what  _ to call it anymore) there wasn’t a woman in a red business dress and black heels hammering a “For Sale” sign into the front lawn. 

“Um, excuse me,” Emma called, walking towards the woman. When she stood, Emma could see a realtor’s badge peeking out beneath her cream colored pea coat. 

“Yes?” the woman asked, a bit suspiciously. 

“I was wondering how this all worked.” Emma gestured between the woman and the house, then vaguely gestured towards the sign. 

“The real estate business?”

“No,” Emma said, biting back her sarcasm, “I mean with the curse. How does one sell real estate when no one can leave, and no one new ever moves here?”

The woman chuckled dryly. Her name tag read “Lori.” 

“Well, that was my curse. I used to be a chamber maid for the Evil Queen, but I had the audacity to break a hand mirror on her vanity.”

“Ooh,” Emma winced, “I take it that’s bad with the whole  _ mirror, mirror  _ thing.”

“You guessed it. Luckily, I was only fired and kicked out of the castle instead of being turned into a cockroach or something.  _ Unfortunately _ , I’m a widow and had no way to take care of myself and my children.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“So my cursed persona was a single mom struggling to make ends meet in the world’s worst real estate economy. You know what they say  _ location, location, location _ .”

Emma winced again. “Sounds awful.”

Lori crossed her arms and studied Emma. “You actually get it, don’t you?”

Emma could only nod in reply. Lori tapped her hammer gently against the palm of her hand. “At least with this curse, I can try and sell the place. Under the first curse, I arrived every single morning to show the house to a potential buyer who never showed.”

“That’s depressing.”

“You have no idea.”

Emma shoved her hands in both her pockets and rocked on her heels. “Can I see it?”

Lori blinked in shock, then shook her head and laughed. “Oh my God, yes! I, um, this is incredible! Follow me.”

Emma’s heart thudded in her chest as she followed the realtor up the porch steps. When the front door swung open, Emma expected to smell a musty odor and find a layer of dust on everything. 

That wasn’t at all what greeted her.

“It . . . isn’t empty.”

“Oh yes, it comes fully furnished. It’s a jewel, it really is.”

There was a large dining table in the eat-in kitchen, which opened into a bright living room with bay windows and a fireplace. Positioned in front of the window was a telescope. Emma bent to look through it, and what she saw sent her reeling back. 

“I know,” Lori enthused, “it has an ocean view! You should see it from the master bedroom. Absolutely gorgeous!”

Emma was beyond overwhelmed now, to the point that she was slightly unsteady on her feet. The painting hanging over a desk in the corner of the living room was the final straw - it was a ship on a stormy sea. Emma turned and fled at the sight of it, almost tripping down the porch steps in her haste. 

“Wait!” the realtor cried out after her. “You didn’t even see the second floor!”

*********************************************

“So, that blue Victorian at 14 Kensington Street, who was supposed to live in it?  
Okay, Emma knew she was being far from subtle. She had planned on subtle. Instead, she had word vomited. 

Regina arched a brow at her as she lifted the lid on yet another trunk in her vault. They were here so Regina could help her practice her magic in preparation for the coming showdown with Zelena.

“I just got publicly humiliated in a magical showdown with my psychotic sister, and you want to talk about real estate?”

“Yeah, you two being sisters - I didn’t see  _ that  _ coming.”

“Well, neither did I,” Regina muttered. She shoved a large, dusty book into Emma’s arms. “Did you ever take Latin by any chance?”

Emma’s eyes widened. “I barely graduated, of course I never took Latin!”

Regina sighed and rubbed wearily at her forehead. Emma dropped the large book with a thud. This was going about as well as she had expected it to. 

“Listen, we don’t have time for me to learn a book of spells in an ancient language! Besides, I’ve never heard you chanting any spells like Hermione Granger. Just . . . I don’t know, show me how to do the stuff I need to beat her.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Do you know how long Rumple trained me? You have to  _ commit _ Emma.”

She almost pointed out that Regina was trained in dark magic while Emma’s magic was light. She almost asked if being born with magic was different than learning it. She wisely bit her tongue. Instead she studied Regina with patience.

“You’re scared.”

“And you’re not?”

Emma let out a long breath. “At least Robin Hood is guarding your heart.”

Regina shrugged, but Emma still saw the blush that rose to her cheeks. 

“What’s going on with him?”

Regina rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to talk about crushes and do our nails. We’re here to get you trained in magic.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Henry says you spend a lot of time with him and his son.”

“He’s . . . nice,” Regina mumbled, studying a case of vials intently.

“I think he’s good for you.”

Regina looked at her with surprise. “Really?”

“And I’ve seen you with Roland - I think you’re good for them, too.”

Regina’s face softened far more than Emma had ever seen it. “Why are you even nice to me? I ruined your life.”

Emma nodded. “You did, that’s true. But I guess, for better or worse, I’m my parents’ daughter.” She looked straight at her former enemy, hoping she could see the sincerity in her expression. “I won’t lie, Regina, sometimes your attitude makes me want to punch you.”

“Again?”

A smile quirked Emma’s lips. “Yeah, again. BUT, when Pan’s curse was heading our way, you did the right thing for Henry. You did the same thing I would have done, what any mother would do - you put his happiness first. That, to me, shows you’ve changed.”

For a moment, it looked like tears were glistening in Regina’s eyes, but then she sniffed and straightened her spine. “Thank you, Emma. I’m just glad Henry’s back and safe.”

“And you know I’ll never keep him from you, right?”

Emma could see the battle in Regina’s expression, but finally the woman sighed and said, “Yes, I know.”

Silence fell for a moment, and Emma turned back to the book of spells. She opened it, aimlessly flipping through pages of symbols that meant nothing to her. 

“So about that house -”

“It was supposed to be Hook’s,” Regina blurted out. Emma looked up at her so quickly, her neck cracked again. 

“In the first curse. I promised him a nice life here, after all.” Regina tilted her head as she studied Emma with a smirk. “But I think you already guessed that.”


	4. A Happy Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Here we have the conclusion of my Christmas gift for @snowbellewells , filled with romance and Christmas feels!  
> * There are scenes in this chapter taken from the show, but the dialogue is not exact. I didn’t think it was a big deal since they don’t follow canon, and I honestly just didn’t care to check. It’s close enough.  
> * Thanks to @kmomof4 for betaing this in the eleventh hour. My eyes were obviously blurring when I wrote this, so thanks for being a second set :)  
> * Merry, Merry Christmas, Marta!

Chapter Four: A Happy Beginning

The whole thing ended up being kind of anti-climactic. Zelena assumed that Emma posed no threat, being a novice at magic. That was true, but the witch had failed to consider the emotion that would well up in Emma with her family in jeopardy. Her baby brother lying in a barn as a part of some spell? Flying monkeys going after her son? Oh, HELL, no. 

The witch literally melting into a pile of goo on the floor of the barn was a bit of a surprise, but fitting. Guess the movie got  _ some  _ things right. 

Even though Christmas Eve was two days away, Granny decided to go ahead and throw her ugly Christmas sweater party to celebrate the witch’s defeat. The entire town was pretty much thrown into a frenzy of party planning. Regina was baking up a storm - everything from her famous lasagna to Christmas cookies that Roland covered himself in frosting decorating. Ruby and Leroy were stocking the bar, Granny and Belle were literally decking the halls, and the rest of the dwarves were racing around town to spread the word. Emma’s parents chafed that they couldn’t help, but they were a little busy with a newborn.

As for Emma, when she asked what she could do to help, Granny shooed her away explaining that she was the guest of honor, and was expected to do nothing but show up and enjoy herself. 

“Well,” Emma exhaled as she, Hook, and Henry stood on the patio outside the diner, “this is a weird feeling. There’s no villain threatening the town, and I hardly know what to do with myself.”

“You could finish wrapping my presents,” Henry suggested slyly.

“Nice try, kid. Your presents are wrapped and hidden so well you’ll never find them. 

_ Because a pirate hid them for me. _

“It was worth a try,” Henry said with a shrug.

Emma looked Killian up and down. “I know what we need to do.”

Killian’s eyebrows rose. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Emma flung her arm around Henry’s shoulder. “Does he look ready for a Christmas party?”

“Except for that beanie on his head, nope.”

Killian began to back away, his hand and hook raised in front of him. “The way you two are looking at me has me very nervous.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a baby, it’ll be fun.”

“I will not be caught dead in one of those hideous sweaters. I don’t care what the theme is.”

Emma started pulling Killian down the sidewalk by his hook. Henry was practically bouncing around them. 

“But there’s a prize for the ugliest one,” Henry protested. “Mine says  _ Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal _ , and it lights up!”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “Why in the world would someone knit such a crass statement on a sweater?”

“It’s from a movie,” Emma laughed.

“Oh, oh,  _ Home Alone  _ for our next movie night! You’ve gotta see it, Killian. It's a classic.”

“I would love to, my boy. So far our movie nights have been quite enjoyable.”

“We’ve gotta get a place, Mom,” Henry told her. “I can’t take Granny’s VHS player much longer.”

Emma waited for Henry’s words to bring a sense of panic, but it never came. Instead, a peaceful contentment stole over her. She looked up and down the sidewalks strung with Christmas lights, and she knew. 

She was home. 

“Definitely,” she told him, ruffling his hair affectionately.

The only clothing establishment in Storybrooke, for any age or gender, was Modern Fashion. Emma had only been in the store a couple of times, and the store’s selection had never impressed her much. The women’s section had only two categories: business casual (with lots of shoulder pads), and kindergarten teacher (there was no question where her mother got her large collection of cardigans). She hoped the men’s section was better. 

The bell over the door jingled as they walked in, and the woman behind the counter didn’t exactly seem happy to see them. She sighed over the edge of her bifocals. 

“I’m all out of ugly Christmas sweaters.”

“Thank the gods,” Killian muttered behind her. 

“That’s okay,” Emma assured her, “we just need to look at your menswear.”

The woman looked Killian over, but not in the way most women did. She humphed, her thin lips pursed. “I should say so. It’s about time he stopped walking around town like that.” She came out from behind the register and motioned them to follow her to the left back corner of her business. She made a sweeping motion with her arm. “You’ll find what you need here. Do you need my assistance?”

“Um, no,” Emma said, lifting the arm of a plaid flannel shirt on a rack next to her, “we’ll be fine on our own.”

“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be right over here.”

“Swan, please tell me you won’t be dressing me up like your father,” Killian begged, holding up a blue plaid against his chest. 

Emma snatched it out of his hand, “No way in hell.”

He smirked at her, and she grabbed his elbow to pull him to another rack. 

“I’ll be right over here,” Henry murmured, his eyes already glued to his handheld game. 

She should have expected that. 

The next rack of shirts were cotton button ups, and Emma happily chose several in dark colors and thrust them into Killian’s arms. 

“This seems to be your color scheme, right?” she asked him, half teasing. 

“If you're dressing me, love, I’ll gladly branch out,” he teased right back. He leaned close, his tongue swiping across his lips. 

Emma swallowed thickly, biting down on her own lip. Her gaze still on his, she grabbed another shirt of cornflower blue.

“Try this one too.”

“As you wish,” he told her with heat in his gaze.

She shoved him towards the fitting room, and while he tried the shirts, she sorted through the display of jeans. Dark wash, more tight fitting than her father’s, but not hipster type skinny jeans. She finally found some that were labelled “slim,” and carried a variety of sizes over to the fitting room. 

“What do you think your measurements are?” Emma asked.

Killian’s head popped up over the top of the fitting room door, and his eyebrow was cocked. “Sizing me up?” 

He winked. Emma rolled her eyes. 

“I need to know what size jeans. Are you a 32 or a 34?”

“32.”

How did the man make a single number sound sexy? She tossed him the jeans as she fought back a smile. When he caught them, she got a peek at his toned arm, and her mouth went dry. 

“Why don’t you have a shirt on yet?” she demanded. 

“I had to get out of my old one first, love.”

Ugh, there he went with the sex voice again. Emma gave him a withering glare that was only half-hearted and went to look for a new leather jacket.

It took them two hours to get Killian everything he needed. He balked at how many pairs of jeans she stacked up, but Emma shook her head. 

“We have this thing called washing machines in this realm, Killian, you don’t have to wear the same pair of pants over and over again.”

“I wash my clothes frequently, thank you very much, but one to wear and one to wash has always served me just fine.”

“Trust me,” Emma insisted, “you’ll thank me later.”

When Emma found out he also only owned two pairs of socks, she grabbed some of those as well. Then she saw a display that made her think of one more thing. She grabbed two packs of boxer briefs and held them up for him to see. 

“Small or medium?” 

Now it was Killian’s turn to blush. “Swan!”

“Oh, come on, it’s just underwear.” She waved the packages at him again. “Small or medium?”

He leaned way closer than necessary to pluck the package from her left hand. “Medium,” he said huskily into her ear. 

Now  _ she  _ was the one blushing, damn it. 

The shopkeeper rang up their purchases, and Emma almost choked when she gave them the total. Killian, however, didn’t skip a beat. He reached into the inside pocket of his leather coat and pulled out a heavy drawstring purse of coins. He dropped it onto the counter with a loud thunk and jangle. 

“Granny takes my gold doubloons. Will this cover it?”

The woman took the purse and weighed it in her hand. Then she opened it and sifted through the coins inside. 

“Yes, this will do,” she said with a satisfied smile.

“Killian,” Emma whispered, “those are  _ gold _ ? It’s probably way too much!”

“It’s fine,” he assured her as he gathered up his bags. “After all, I’ll soon need to find some form of employment. I’ll come out okay.”

Emma helped him with the bags and called for Henry. As they walked out into the late afternoon sun, his words struck Emma. A form of employment he had said. She had already wondered where the Jolly Roger was. He hadn’t mentioned it, and for some reason she’d been too nervous to ask. What would he do in Storybrooke? What job openings were there for a former pirate?

“Hey Mom,” Henry called, snapping her out of her thoughts, “squeeze in. I’m getting a selfie.”

Emma smiled and leaned in. Henry was sandwiched between her and Killian. His phone clicked a few times, and then he pulled up the photos he had taken. Emma leaned over to see, and her breath caught in her throat. 

In every single one, Killian wasn’t looking at the camera - he was looking at her. 

**************************************

“You were right,” Emma crowed as she plopped down into the chair across from Killian out on Granny’s patio, “I won. My Christmas tree sweater won!”

Killian gave her a half-hearted smile. “That’s wonderful, Swan.”

Emma cocked her head and studied him as he tossed back a swallow of rum. He looked amazing in his new clothes. They were modern, but they were still  _ him _ . He also still had the earrings, the rings on his hand, and the charms nestled against his chest hair.

The man still was incapable of buttoning a shirt all the way - not that she was complaining. 

“What are you doing out here?”

He shrugged, then gave her a self-deprecating smile. “Just needed some air.”

Emma glanced back at the window of the diner where the majority of the town were celebrating. Did he still not feel welcome? She looked back at him, suddenly wanting desperately to see him smile at her. That smile that she felt was for her alone. The smile he had in the magical vision that she now was beginning to believe really was her future -  _ their  _ future. How could she make this man before her believe that he belonged here? How could she help him see that he deserved that happy ending she had gotten a glimpse of? 

“I wanted to thank you, Killian,” she told him, hoping her tone of voice conveyed her complete sincerity. He looked up at her with a slightly surprised expression. “For coming to get me in New York.”

He ducked his head and took another sip of rum. “It’s what a hero does.”

She smiled, though her heart ached at the slight sarcasm she detected in his tone. “You  _ are  _ a hero. How did you do it? How did you get to me?”

“Well, I ditched my crew and sailed as fast as I could until I was out of the curse’s purview.”

“You outran a curse?”

“I’m a hell of a captain.”

His cocky tone made her chuckle. “Then what?”

“I knew the walls were down. Travel between the realms was possible. All I needed was a magic bean.”

“Those aren’t easy to come by.”

“They are if you have something of value with which to trade.”

“And what was that?”

“Why, the Jolly Roger of course.”

The smile he gave her now wasn’t the one she longed for. This was his devil-may-care smile, the one he used to mask his feelings. In this moment, he was making light of what he’d just confessed, yet it was  _ everything _ .

“You traded your ship for me?” Emma could scarcely get the words out, since her lungs suddenly had forgotten how to produce oxygen.

The smile fell away, and behind it was nothing but complete vulnerability. “Aye.”

The breath rushed back into Emma’s lungs all at once as the weight of his confession poured over her. She  _ knew  _ what that ship meant to him. She leaned towards him, her gaze landing on his lips, and he moved too. When their lips met, her heart expanded, and she almost laughed as she thought of the Grinch of all things -  _ his heart grew three sizes that day _ . Killian pulled back slightly when he felt her smile against his lips, and he searched her gaze with such longing, and there it was -  _ the smile _ . The one in her vision, the one in the selfies that Henry took, the one she felt was only for her. His thumb grazed her cheek, and his fingers slipped through her hair, and Emma leaned back in to kiss him some more. This was different from Neverland. This was languid, not rushed. This was passionate, but laced with tenderness. She tilted her head, her tongue caressing his, and she felt she could sit out here and kiss him forever. 

He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against hers. “May I take you out on a proper date, Emma? Alone.”

“Um, most  _ proper dates _ require the couple to be alone.”

He chuckled and swiped his thumb across her wet and swollen lips. “Just making myself clear.”

“Yes,” she breathed and then kissed him again. Snowflakes began to fall from the sky above, but she didn’t care. 

She could sit out here and kiss him forever. 

*********************************************

Their date ended up taking place on Christmas Eve. Henry was spending it with Regina, and Christmas day with her, and Emma couldn’t think of anyone else she wanted to spend the evening with but Killian. 

Her parents had surprisingly been okay with it. Her mother even insisted she come over to the loft so she could help her get ready. It ended up feeling like the prom night she never got, with her mom taking polaroids, Killian bringing her a single red rose, and her father doing the whole overprotective dad thing. She pretended to hate it.

She loved it.

He took her to an Italian bistro that she hadn’t even known existed. It was called Bella Note’s - like in  _ Lady & the Tramp _ . After all, it was Storybrooke. 

Now they were walking through the empty streets, admiring the Christmas lights as a light snow fell around them. Killian had given Emma his jacket, his arm was around her, and they were talking and laughing easily. Like . . . best friends. 

Like soulmates. 

Never had Emma been so comfortable and happy on a first date. They found themselves standing before the large town Christmas tree in front of the courthouse. Her mom had made it happen, of course. The dwarves and the merry men had chopped it down and put it up. David, Robin, Killian, and Henry had strung the lights. It didn’t have any ornaments. Maybe next year. 

“It’s amazing how dozens of tiny lights can make something so beautiful,” Killian mused as he looked up at it. “A bit like a starry night, isn’t it?”

Emma wasn’t looking at the tree or the stars or anything but his profile. “Killian, can I show you something?”

“Anything, love.”

When he said it, she got the distinct feeling he could have easily put a “my” in there.  _ My love _ . It didn’t scare her at all.

Now,  _ that  _ was a Christmas miracle.

It was a couple of blocks towards the shore to get to the blue Victorian, but neither of them minded the walk or the cold. Emma’s feet were like blocks of ice in her pretty shoes, but even that couldn’t stop her. 

“Do you know what this is?’ she asked once they stopped in front of the white picket fence.

“A large house?”

“Yes,” Emma laughed, “but it was supposed to be  _ your _ house.”

His eyebrows rose. “Mine?”

“In the first curse. Regina really would have held up her end of the deal. Your cursed life was going to be pretty sweet. This nice house with a view of the sea. A job as the harbor master. Not bad.”

“But I wouldn’t know who I was. I would be cursed to relive the same day over and over again.”

Emma wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “True. That’s not the only reason I wanted to show you this house, though.”

Emma walked backwards through the gate of the fence, pulling Killian forward. She stopped in the middle of the walk and turned to stand beside him. 

“When I lost my sight that morning, it was a gift Killian. I got to see  _ ahead _ , into the future, and this is what I saw.”

“This house?”

Emma nodded. “I was standing right here, holding a pair of tiny shoes.”

She bit her lip. Maybe she shouldn’t be telling him this part. Wasn’t this the kind of thing that sent men running scared? But he grinned at her, and she saw his dimples, and her nerves fled.

“Tiny shoes?”

“Yes, and then I heard your voice, and you were over here,” she pulled him down the walk to the driveway. “Buckling a tiny boy into his carseat. And there was a girl too, her name was Hope, and she looked just like me except . . . she had your eyes.”

Emma whirled to face him. His eyes were wide, his jaw slack. She tilted her head to study him, and he blinked at her. 

“She had my eyes?”

“Am I freaking you out?”

“What else?” he whispered softly. 

“You had that beanie on your head, the one Granny got you, and I was wearing that hideous Christmas tree sweater, and . . . .” she shook her head, “you probably think I’m insane. I mean, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I’m surprised you aren’t running screaming back to Granny’s.”

He chuckled, his smile bright as he wrapped his arms around her. “What would be the point in that when you live across the hall?”

Emma rolled her eyes, but before she could give him a smart retort, he had claimed her lips. She lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck, and she pushed up on her toes so she could press herself closer. When they parted, they were both breathless. 

“I have a feeling you’re leaving something out.”

He searched her gaze, and his blue eyes were sparkling. 

“I was . . . pregnant.” She wrinkled her nose and closed one eye. “Now are you freaked out?”

“This vision already has two kids in it, Swan, what’s one more?” he laughed. 

Emma let out a relieved breath as he held her closer. She snuggled into the crook of his neck as her fingers toyed with his hair. 

“So you don’t think it sounds crazy?”

He pulled back and gently lifted her chin. He pressed a tender kiss to her lips, then pressed his forehead to hers. “No, not crazy. Wonderful. It sounds wonderful. Like a dream come true.”

_ Six years later . . .  _

Emma patted her baby bump and whispered to baby Haley. Killian had found out the name meant heroine, and he couldn’t let it go. They were trying to keep the gender a surprise, but the way they kept calling her “Haley,” her mom was going to find out sooner rather than later. 

Emma pulled her Christmas tree sweater over her head, though it was a bit snug across her middle. She was just about to dash down the stairs, when Killian called up.

“Can you grab Graham’s shoes, love?’

Emma grinned. It was  _ that  _ Christmas. 

She stopped in Graham’s room, snatched his little boots, and then raced down the stairs and out the door. When she reached the van, she threw herself into her husband’s arms and claimed his lips in a messy, toe-curling kiss. 

When she pulled away, he was laughing merrily. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for, love?”

She smiled brightly at Killian as she pulled his beanie further over his adorable ears. 

“For our dream come true.”

**Author's Note:**

> What is a phoropter you ask? Well, if you imagine an eye doctor's office, you are probably picturing one, you just didn't know what it was called :) If you google the word, you'll see what I mean! I had no idea how to describe it. When I googled it, I think I typed in something like "that thing you look into at the eye doctor's office" lol.


End file.
